


If This Is To End In Fire (Then We Should All Burn Together).

by kotabear24



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Minor Character Death, Underage - Freeform, War Era, also this is kind of awful, boy!Gemma, boy!Lottie, sorry bout that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kotabear24/pseuds/kotabear24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis's never torn up about his big brother going off to war; Harry is. Louis' brother returns; Harry's doesn't. </p><p>(Title from 'I See Fire' by Ed Sheeran) (fucking incredible omg).</p>
            </blockquote>





	If This Is To End In Fire (Then We Should All Burn Together).

Louis remembers the first time war made Harry cry. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Harry cry – not by far; Harry always was such a sensitive little boy – but there was a difference between seeing Harry sniffle with a few tears on his red cheeks when he got a cut on his knee and seeing Harry clutching his brother Gemma’s hand. 

“Please, Gem, please don’t go,” he’d begged, looking up at her with worried eyes. “ _Please_. I’ll – I’ll clean the bathroom better, and I won’t – I won’t ask to go _anywhere_ with you and your friends and I’ll always let you pick the channel, Gem, just _please_. _Please_ don’t leave us. I don’t – I don’t want you to _go_.”

Gem had squatted down and tousled Harry’s fine hair, pulling him in for a hug. “I’ll be home before you know it, Bud,” he promised, “and I’ll buy you ice cream for a _week_ , okay?” Harry sobbed and buried his face in Gemma’s neck, arms thrown around his shoulders tight. “Hey, don’t be sad,” Gem had said, rubbing his back while all the other guys in Gem’s troop walked around, saying goodbye to their own families. “Dusty’ll know if you’re sad, and you don’t want to make him sad, do you?” Even from where Louis watched, he could tell it was a low dig, but a desperate attempt to stop Harry’s tears.

Harry shook his head again, but pulled back a little, one chubby fist rubbing at his eyes. “No,” he said, and Gemma hugged him tight again.

“I’ll be back before you’re even done with school for the year, okay? Stay out of my room, turd.”

Harry laughed a little, and it sounded wet, but he tried a wobbly grin for Gemma. “I’m gonna fart on your pillow if you don’t write me letters all the time,” he warned, and Gemma snorted. 

“I’ll write to you,” he said. “Swear.” A voice on the loudspeaker came on, and Gemma paused, listening to it, and grimaced. “I’ve gotta go, Bud,” he said, and stood up to give his and Harry’s mom a hug. He kissed her cheek and then bent down to Harry again, who was already tearing up more, though he tried to hide it. “Focus on school, okay? And keep Lou out of trouble.” Louis made eye contact at the sound of his name, and Gemma winked over at him. “Me and Lotts’ll take care of each other if you and Lou do the same. Deal?” 

Harry and Louis both nodded, and Gemma left, walking to her group. 

Louis looked up to his own brother, Lottie, and punched him in the arm half-heartedly. “Don’t get hurt,” he muttered, because he and Lottie never really were that close. 

Lottie just grinned and hugged him briefly. “Love you, shit-head,” he sang, and then let go before Louis could even protest. Lottie kissed their mom and clapped their dad’s shoulder, and then went off to join Gemma, lining up to go off to war. 

Harry ran up to Louis and barreled into him, sobbing heavily on Louis’ Power Ranger shirt, but Louis had just wrapped his arms around his best friend and shushed him, telling him Gemma would be fine because Gemma was too good at his job. 

Having Harry cry like that tore Louis up, hating that he couldn’t ease Harry’s pain but not sure what to do. Luckily, Harry had been young, and easily distracted, and though he often cried at night and Sunday mornings were filled with prayer requests for Gemma and his troop, he was okay.

This time, it’s going to be a little different, and Louis knows it is. The goodbye isn’t much different, at least. 

Louis stands with his mom and Lottie, who’s trying to coax dry eyes from their mom, and Louis watches Harry. Harry’s with Anne and his new step-dad Robin and Gemma, and Harry’s not begging his brother not to go, but he’s got his face hidden in Gemma’s neck again, arms wound tight around Gemma’s shoulders and fingers digging into his uniform. His body’s wracking with sobs and Gemma’s face is pinched and his jaw is clenched, lips pursed and eyes shut tight as he rocks his brother side to side. Anne’s got her head leaned against Robin’s shoulder as she watches, crying herself, and Robin’s comforting Anne and not watching the kids. Louis thinks it’s because he _can’t_. Louis certainly can’t; his eyes are watering and he wipes the stupid tears away quickly, hoping nobody will see.

“Awe, is someone gonna miss his big brother?” Lottie teases when he sees Louis crying a little. Before Louis can protest, Lottie’s got him in a bone-crushing hug as he makes fake-crying sounds and wipes his hand over Louis’ hair, messing it up as he pretends to comfort him. 

Louis breaks free and glares up at Lottie, and he hates to admit it but he _will_ miss him. A little, maybe. But it’s easier to let Lottie go when he’s angry at him, so he punches Lottie’s arm hard and mutters, “Fuck you,” and crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t, like – don’t die, or whatever,” he says, and it comes out bitterly, and angry and a little hurt, and Lottie has a weird expression on his face but he nods and claps Louis’ shoulder like he’s a grown man instead of a fifteen-year-old kid. 

“You’re the man of the house, alright?” Lottie says, and Louis scrunches his nose because he hates that. “You take care of Mom. You keep her safe. Got it?” Louis nods and Lottie looks relieved, and Louis knows it’s because their dad left them and their mom never really got over it. 

With everything squared away, Lottie squeezes Louis’ shoulder and makes to leave. Suddenly seized with a strange bout of panic, Louis grabs Lottie’s arm, and Lottie turns around and looks at him, questioning. “Lottie, I –”

Louis can’t make himself say it – he doesn’t tell anyone he loves them anymore, except Harry, and even then, it’s not often – but Lottie looks like he gets it, maybe, and he hugs Louis for real, this time. In his big brother’s embrace, Louis looks over to Harry again and sees he’s getting really hysterical, anxiety and love and hurt all playing into his tears when he begs Gemma not to go. Louis thinks Lottie would be embarrassed if Louis did that in front of Lottie’s troop, but Gemma goes with it – Gemma knows Harry the way Louis does, knows how badly losing their real dad messed Harry up, knows he doesn’t do well at all with goodbyes of any kind. 

Lottie leaves, then, and Louis hears the voice on the loudspeaker going off. He sees Gemma try to tell Harry he has to let go, but Harry only cries harder and shakes his head no, so Louis goes over there. Gemma opens his eyes when Louis gets over there, and Louis’ surprised to see tears in Gemma’s eyes, too. 

“Harry, come on,” Louis says, and touches Harry’s shoulder. “Come on, Harry, come here. Come here.” 

Something in Louis’ voice must work, because Harry squeezes Gemma one last time, whispers fiercely, “I love you so much,” and lets go of Gemma to clutch at Louis. His hands are desperate, feeling any inch of Louis he can get to, and Louis squeezes him so tight it’ll be hard to breathe, knowing Harry feels like he’s falling to pieces. He’s told Louis he feels that way – that sometimes he falls to pieces and has to hold himself together, that that’s why he likes cuddling so much. 

Gemma says goodbye to Anne and Robin, and he kisses Harry’s crown and says, “I’ll be back before you know it, Bud,” like last time as he goes. Lottie’s waiting for him, and Gemma ducks his head to wipe tears away, fists clenching and unclenching like a reflex to get him grounded again. Lottie throws an arm over Gem’s shoulder, and looks behind him to Louis. Louis nods, tight-lipped, and Lottie’s mouth quirks up to a little smile and he waves goodbye. 

The next few weeks with Harry are hard. 

Harry’s not a child anymore – not that he’s a grown man, at thirteen – and isn’t so easily distracted. Louis drives him to school and picks him up; they do homework together and they sit in each other’s rooms as much as their parents will allow. Louis watches Harry take his anxiety pills and keeps a careful eye on Harry’s forearms and thighs, wants to make sure he’s not cutting them up anymore, like when his dad died. Harry’s being good – his grades go up, he sings beautifully with his band, his chores stay done, and he never disobeys his mother or Robin – but without Gemma around, it’s like he’s barely even there. 

There are a few days that stand out – some for good reasons; some for bad. 

The first good day is when Harry gets a letter from Gemma. They’ve just got home from school and Louis’ up in Harry’s room, setting out his stuff for homework while Harry’s downstairs getting them a snack. Harry lets out a god-awful sounding screech and runs upstairs, climbing on his bed and into Louis’ lap. “I got a letter! Gemma wrote me a letter!” He says, and Louis settles his arms around Harry’s waist as Harry’s shaky fingers open it. 

“’Dear Harry,’” Harry reads out loud, and then he stops reading out loud and just reads in his head. It would worry Louis, but Louis knows Harry doesn’t like reading out loud sometimes – his mouth works slower than his eyes do and it makes him trip up sometimes. It embarrasses him in class, because it makes him sound stupid, but right now Louis knows he’s just too impatient to struggle giving Louis the words – he wants to devour the words himself, first, and then Louis can see for himself. 

After a few minutes of watching Harry’s face – he’s so expressive; Louis can’t help but be captivated – move from excitement to interest to worry back to excitement to laughing and fondness, Harry’s face closes back on fond sadness and he leans back against Louis. Louis rubs at Harry’s tummy, knows going through all those emotions exhausts him, and Harry sighs. 

“I miss my brother,” is all he says, and then his face screws up and his hands cover his face and he’s crying, leaning back against Louis as his body shakes with sobs. 

“Oh, Harry,” Louis says, and maneuvers them around so they’re both laying on the bed. Harry immediately curls himself up, hiding his face because he doesn’t like that he cries so much. Louis’ never minded, though, probably never will, and it keeps him close to Harry, rubbing his back and planting kisses on Harry’s forehead whenever Harry lets out little sounds of his sadness. 

Another day is when their friend Niall invites them to a bonfire at his house, says his friends Zayn and Liam are bringing all the wood and Harry and Louis should bring food. Harry doesn’t want to go, but Louis hates the way Harry’s been so sad lately and he _knows_ how much Harry likes Zayn – how cool he thinks Zayn is, and likes that Zayn wants to hang out with them – so he begs Harry to come and buys all the food just so Harry doesn’t have to make anything. 

They show up and it turns out that Niall not only supplied the spot to have the bonfire at, but also beer. Harry’s only drank once before, but he drinks tonight, and Louis isn’t his mom, so he doesn’t say anything. He does keep pouring water into Harry’s cup when he thinks Harry isn’t looking, to dilute it a little bit, because Anne will kill _both_ of them if she finds out Harry got drunk. 

That night, Louis takes Harry home because _he_ didn’t have anything to drink, and when they’re sneaking upstairs to Louis’ room, Harry pushes him up against the wall and kisses him, his lips firm against Louis’. Louis kisses him back, bewildered but bursting out of his skin because he’s loved Harry since they were little kids running around and scraping knees, and Harry puts his hands on Louis’ waist, fingers tightening nervously until Louis fits a hand against his cheek and rubs him with the side of his thumb. 

Harry pulls back when he can’t breathe, and presses his forehead against Louis’ cheek so he won’t have to look Louis in the eye. “Is that – was that okay?” He asks, breathing heavily, and his fingers tap nervously against Louis’ waist again. 

Louis nods, because _yes_ , of course it’s okay, and kisses Harry’s forehead. They go to Louis’ room and take their clothes off until they’re in their boxers, and they lay in bed together, facing each other with their fingers connected. Harry smiles shyly at Louis, and Louis smiles back, wanting nothing more than to be free to kiss Harry again. So he does, and sighs from relief into Harry’s mouth when Harry responds eagerly. 

Another stand-out day is the very next day, actually, because Louis screws up the courage to ask Harry to be his boyfriend. 

It’s the fourteenth of January when Harry nods shyly and leans forward to kiss him, hands fitted over Louis’ thighs where they sit across from each other on Louis’ bed. They spend the rest of the day together, glad it’s a Saturday and neither of them has any plans for the day. They spend it mostly in Louis’ room, snuggled up and kissing, and Harry keeps talking about how excited he is to write to Gemma about it. 

Then there’s a really bad day, about two months after Harry and Louis have become boyfriends. Harry and Louis both get texts during school from their moms, both telling them to come straight to Harry’s house after school without stopping for anything. Equally nervous, they pile into Louis’ car and drive home, tense and both trying to come up with reasons their moms would both be mad at them. Harry asks hesitantly, “Do you think they found out we’re boyfriends?”

Louis can’t imagine how they’d find out, but it’s possible. They’re _moms_ , after all. “You don’t think they’d be _mad_ at us, though?” He asks, just as nervous. He’d never paused long enough to think that maybe he should tell his mom he likes boys – namely, Harry – but he can see how it might upset her to know he’s been keeping secrets from her.

But when they come into Harry’s front door, their moms rush for them, hugging them tight and Robin stands behind them, tight-lipped and tense. 

Louis holds his mom and Harry just stands there while Anne holds him tightly, looking from Louis to Robin to their moms. “What’s – what’s going on?” He asks, and his voice starts getting panicky. “Mom, Robin, what’s happened?”

Neither of them say anything and Louis wants to scream at them, because they _know_ how Harry panics, and he’s just on the verge of getting Harry’s pills from the front pocket in Harry’s backpack when Robin says, “A Black Hawk got shot down.”

It doesn’t register to Louis for a while, until Harry crumples, knees going week so that Anne has to hold him up. Louis shouts Harry’s name a little too loud, but Harry’s eyes are already flooding with tears as Harry croaks out, “Gem,” in a pained voice. 

It takes Louis a few seconds before he realizes what’s happening, but Harry’s already on the ground, arms over his head as he curls up on his side and cries violently. It stabs Louis – the sight of Harry, and the realization of what’s happening. Gemma and Lottie work on a Black Hawk, carrying secret messages to people. That's their job. They work together, and a Black Hawk got shot down.

“ _Lottie_ ,” he breathes, and then, “ _Gemma_.”

“We don’t _know_ anything for sure, yet,” Robin continues. “We don’t know it was theirs.” It’s meant to be comforting, but Louis wants to punch him. _Why didn’t they lead with that?!_ Why didn’t they say they didn’t know _before_?

Louis pulls Harry up, lets Harry cling to him. He looks at Robin and Anne and his mom and dares one of them to tell him to stay with them, but when they don’t, he takes Harry up to his room. Harry cries himself to sleep that night, and doesn’t go down with Louis to eat dinner.

When Louis comes back up with a plate for Harry, he goes to the bathroom to shower while Harry eats, and finds a smear of blood in Harry’s shower. His veins run cold. 

It’s a full week before they get any news, and Louis watches, helpless, as he keeps finding new Band-Aids on Harry’s skin, on the insides of his thighs. Harry knows Louis knows what he’s doing to himself, but Louis doesn’t know how to stop him. He just has to sit and watch fire burning at Harry’s heart, make sure Harry takes his pills and eats all his meals and does all his homework. Harry’s sad more often than not – has been since Gemma’s been gone – but this is different, and it’s scary, and Louis’ lost. 

Finally, Louis gets called to the office in the middle of class, and his mom is waiting in the office, her hands clasped together and eyes red. Immediately, Louis goes to her, panic seeping into his soul – they can’t have lost Lottie. 

But his mom’s crying out of relief, because the first thing she tells him when he wraps her up is, “Lottie’s _okay_.” 

Louis lets out a big breath and it turns into a little sob of relief, and he rubs his hands up and down his mom’s back before he pulls away a little bit. “When did you find out?” He asks. “Does Harry know yet?”

And his mom’s face falls, and Louis feels his knees go weak. 

“Louis, Gemma – Gem didn’t make it,” she says quietly, her voice choked up and tears swimming in her eyes. 

Louis can’t hardly see her – he’s got tears of his own – and he swallows hard and tries to breathe. “Does Harry know yet?” He asks again, and his mom shakes her head.

“They were going to wait ‘til he got home,” she says, and Louis knows immediately that it’s the wrong decision, and sighs in almost-relief when she adds, “but they figured it would only make him feel worse. They’re coming behind me.”

Louis lets out a sob and sinks into a chair, and his mom dithers uncertainly, ends up patting his shoulder. Louis can only think of the Band-Aids on Harry’s thighs.

\---

Harry doesn’t talk to Louis for four days. Louis grows more and more terrified. 

\---

Finally, Louis grows the courage to go to Harry’s house. Anne answers the door, a sad attempt of a smile on her face as she registers Louis’ presence, and her eyes start to water. Louis’ eyes sting, too, because Gem was like an older brother – one who was nicer to Louis than Lottie ever had been – in addition to Harry’s hero and best friend in the world. 

Anne holds out her arms to Louis, and he turns his face sideways and tucks it against her chest, his arms easily going around her waist. Anne’s always been something of a second mother. When Louis’ dad left, Louis’ mom forgot how to be a mom, and Louis forgot how to love her. Anne had stepped in, letting Louis and Lottie stay over more often than not, taking care of four children as easily as she had two and somehow still managing to be a best friend and confidant to Louis’ mom. 

Now, though, Anne’s lost a son and Louis’ kept a brother, and Louis had been afraid he wouldn’t be welcome at their house. Anne’s simple love gives Louis an endless amount of relief. 

“He’s in his room,” Anne says when she pulls away, a hand on the back of his head, her fingers carding through Louis’ soft hair. “He’s – he could use you, if you’re up for it.”

Louis swallows, his comfort disappearing even though this is what he came to do. “Thanks,” he says lamely, and she kisses his forehead and Louis climbs the stairs. 

He hesitates outside Harry’s door, but it’s just prolonging the inevitable, so Louis takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. Harry doesn’t answer, but Louis goes in anyway, and Harry’s sitting up in his bed, knees under his chin, leaning against the wall at his side. He looks dirty and tired, and Louis still loves him regardless, and still wants to hold him. 

Harry looks up at Louis briefly, and then lays back against the wall, eyes slowly falling shut like it’s exhausted him to exert the physical energy to do that much. Louis wonders when Harry last ate or drank.

He walks over to Harry and hesitates, but finally decides to sit on the edge of the bed, in case Harry doesn’t want his usual kind of comfort. Harry watches him with half-open eyelids, but doesn’t move toward or away from him, so Louis settles quickly and thinks of something to say. “I’ve missed you,” he finally goes with, and berates himself for it instantly. This isn’t about him, but he’s a sixteen-year-old boy in an incredibly awkward situation; what’s expected?

Harry nods barely, though, so at least Louis knows he’s listening to him, and it pushes him to go on. 

“How have you…when did you last eat something?” He asks, deciding that’s most important. Harry only shrugs, though, so Louis licks his lips and tries again. “Have you been drinking enough water?” Again, Harry shrugs, but this time it’s accompanied with a slight shake of his head, so Louis stands up, fixing his shirt awkwardly. Harry hasn’t moved, except his eyes, watching Louis, and it makes Louis uncomfortable. “I’ll be right back” he says, “don’t go anywhere, okay?” He says it more for propriety’s sake than anything, because he know Harry won’t answer him, so he gets up to go downstairs. 

Anne’s not around, anymore, but Louis just fixes a glass of water from the tap and gets a banana and an apple and heads back upstairs with all three, hoping Harry will at least consume that much. When he gets upstairs, though, Harry’s standing by his door, looking furious, and Louis’ steps falter. “Harry?” He asks uncertainly, presenting the fruit and water, but Harry just keeps glaring at him. “I brought you some food –” He begins, but Harry interrupts him. 

“Get out!” He shouts thunderously, and the banana slips from Louis’ hand and falls to the floor. “Get out! I don’t want to see you anymore!” 

Louis takes a step back, stunned, and the door down the hall opens, Anne emerging with concern on her face. “Harry!” She gasps, standing behind Louis, but Harry doesn’t look up at her. He keeps his gaze on Louis, face splotchy and red. 

“You don’t even _like_ your brother, Lou,” he says loudly, his voice breaking as tears spill over his cheeks, and a hand pulls at his hair. “You don’t even _like_ Lottie, and you don’t deserve to have a brother!” Louis watches, stunned and hurt and yet still concerned, as Harry sinks to the ground.

“ _Harry_!” Anne shouts, tears of her own welling up in her eyes. She puts her hands on Louis’ shoulders and keeps him there, but Louis just wants _out_.

“Why didn’t Lottie die instead?!” Harry shouts to his knees, sobbing on the floor. 

Louis’ knees buckle and he just barely manages to stay standing, and he turns to leave, bracing himself with his hands on the wall. “I’ll always love you,” he says, his voice breaking slightly, and he hurries off.

“Louis!” Anne calls after him, but he doesn’t stop and he doesn’t turn around to see her. He just leaves. 

He runs down the stairs, tripping over his own feet as his breaths come in hitches and his vision blurs from tears – how could Harry _say_ something like that? – and he runs down the hall. His shoes are finally on and he’s opening the door when he hears an ear-splitting wail from Harry’s voice that sounds an awful lot like Louis’ name. A huge part of Louis wants to go back to him, to wrap him up and comfort him – Gemma would have wanted him to – but he doesn’t. He walks out the door and doesn’t look back. 

\---

It’s only a few days later when Louis comes home and Lottie’s laying on the couch in the living room. Most of his right leg is completely gone, the stub of remaining limb wrapped up in gauze, and he’s got cuts and bruises all over his body, but he’s in a normal t-shirt and athletic shorts, and there’s only a small strip of bandage across his face, wrapped around the top of his head, and his right arm’s in a sling and casted up thickly. 

Louis pauses on his way to the hall, a hand bracing himself on the wall because Lottie looks so broken and he certainly never seemed breakable before. For a wild moment, Louis wonders what Gem’s body would have looked like, and he realizes the funeral must be soon. He wants to go to it.

Lottie looks up at him, then, and Louis stills, wondering if he’s about to get yelled at for staring the way he was. But Lottie offers him a little smile and an awkward wave with his left hand, and his head tilts up a bit. “Lou,” he says quietly, but there’s emotion in it. Louis can hear it. “Come on in.”

Louis hesitates, and it looks like Lottie’s face falls a little bit. 

It’s not that Louis doesn’t want to see Lottie. It’s not that he’s not relieved with his whole heart that Lottie’s alive and (mostly) well, and it’s not that Louis doesn’t want to go and hug his brother – mean though he may be – as hard and tight as possible and maybe cry a little bit because all he can think about is saying goodbye to Lottie and the way Lottie hugged him back for a little bit, there. It’s just – 

That’s not his brother, lying there. This is the body of a defeated man, wounded and broken and fractioned off, as gruesome as it sounds. Louis’ brother was someone who was too tough to be hurt, ever, and he _certainly_ wasn’t someone who would allow doctors to take off a leg and cast up an arm and wrap stuff around his head like he and Louis used to do when they were kids with toilet paper, pretending to be mummies.

This man is scary-looking, and as much as Louis wants to hold on to his _brother_ , this isn’t him.

Louis turns and runs up to his room, and he slams the door shut and sits on the floor with his back to it. His mom knocks on his door a few minutes later, asking if he’s okay, but Louis doesn’t answer her, and she lets him pretend like he didn’t hear her. 

Every day for the rest of the week, Lottie’s on the couch when Louis gets home from school. Louis wants to go in and hug him, and tell him about Harry, and tell him about how much Harry doesn’t want to talk to him and the things Harry said to him, and he wants to be close to Lottie in a way he never really thought about before. He wants to ask what happened – how he got so hurt, and why Gemma died, and how he made it out alive but Gemma didn’t. He wants to tell Lottie about how high his geography grade is, and ask for help on his pre-algebra, and ask him if he thinks trying out for the spring musical would be _too_ gay of Louis. He never does any of those things, though – just stares at Lottie until he catches him, and then runs up to his room.

On Friday, though, Lottie is struggling to sit up when Louis gets home, and as Louis nears the doorway to the living room, Lottie starts to fall over, and Louis has to run in and catch him so he doesn’t fall onto the floor and land on his broken arm and missing leg. Lottie’s huffing loudly by the time Louis sits him up, his face red and lips pressed in a pained grimace, and Louis takes a step back from him when he’s settled, biting his lips through his nerves. Lottie sees it, though, and grabs Louis’ wrist gently. 

“Lou, I know it’s scary,” he says quietly, “but I’m still _me_. Just a little lighter.”

Louis chokes on a laugh that turns into some tears, and Lottie pats his wrist. Louis’ tempted to crawl into Lottie’s lap, just to see if he’d let him stay there and cry – he never would have before, but maybe now – but he doesn’t want to hurt Lottie, so he just sinks to the ground and puts his head on the cushion next to Lottie’s cut-off leg and sits in silence. Without turning to look at Lottie, he says quietly, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

There’s a pause, and Louis thinks maybe he hears Lottie swallow loudly before he says, “Thanks, Lou. I’m glad, too, I guess.”

The edge in Lottie’s voice makes Louis frown, and he leans his head back and asks, “You guess? What happened out there?”

Lottie doesn’t answer for a long time, and Louis starts to wonder if this is what his mom meant, about how being a soldier is a dangerous job in more than just the physical way, like maybe Lottie’s emotions are as broken as his body is. When Louis’ just about to sigh and give up, Lottie licks his lips and stares up at the ceiling as he answers. “War’s a really scary thing, Lou. Obviously. But it’s not like in the movies. It’s not, like, row after row of soldiers coming at you with guns. It’s – that’s not really how it works. And you – I…I don’t know what Mom told you, about what happened, but my helicopter got gunned down, basically, and the way it landed... Everyone in there died, except me and – and Gemma. I was on the far side of the Hawk, and it fell the other way and rolled, and Gemma was even further than me. By the time we could move again, he was pulling me away, so if the shooters came to look, or anything. He was – he was way better-off than me. The way we landed…I landed on my right side, and some parts of the helicopter kind of…” He makes a jerking movement with his left arm, and shakes his head. “Gem should’ve been okay,” he mumbles, so quietly Louis thinks he might have imagined it, and he stays quiet, but Lottie doesn’t say anything else. 

After a while, he asks, “Does it hurt?”

Lottie laughs, bitter and dry. “My arm, or my leg? Or my head?”

Louis bites his lips a little before he clarifies. “Missing Gemma, I meant.”

Lottie finally looks at Louis, then, and then smiles sadly. His lip starts to tremble, and with his left arm, he pats the cushion next to him. Louis scrambles up there, though he’s sure to be careful not to jostle the couch too much, and Lottie leans against him a little. He’s kind of heavy, but Louis lets him do it anyway, a little caught off guard by the fact that he doesn’t mind the closeness with Lottie. He always figured he would. 

“Yeah, it does hurt,” Lottie says, and Louis swallows hard. They sit in silence for a really long time, and Lottie swallows before he finally - _finally_ \- whispers, “I’m scared to go to his funeral, even though I know I have to.”

Louis’ lip wobbles a little bit. Even though he and Lottie have never particularly got along, Louis’ always thought of his brother as brave and strong and _together_ , but losing his best friend and parts of himself in war seems to have changed him an awful lot, and Louis wonders to himself if that means him and Lottie can be sort-of friends now. “I’ll be there with you,” he says, and Lottie swallows loudly.

\---

Lottie’s got a wheelchair, and Louis’ mom pushes him in it as they enter the hangar, where the funeral’s held. The building is packed with people – military people, their families, people from Gemma and Lottie’s high school, and the Cox and Styles and Twist family. Harry’s in the front row in a suit, his hair slicked back with too much gel and his eyes are puffy and bloodshot but his jaw is locked up tight and he’s ramrod straight in the seats. 

Since Lottie has a wheelchair, Louis’ family sits towards the front, as well, in the row one aisle over from Harry’s, and Louis notices when Harry looks over at them. He visibly blanches when he realizes it’s _Lottie_ in the wheelchair, but he stays in his seat when Anne recognizes them and immediately hurries over. 

“ _Lottie_ ,” she says, tears in her voice. She leans down and carefully, so carefully, hugs him, and Lottie’s arm pulls her closer as his broken cast just rests against her side. 

“Anne,” he greets her, and swallows. “I – I want to –”

“Shhh,” Anne says, her voice soothing as always. “There’s time for that later.” Lottie nods, and Anne only hesitates a few seconds, battling her tears, before she says in a choked-up voice, “I’m so glad you made it home, Lottie.”

Lottie loses it at that, tears sliding down his cheeks almost instantly, but Anne kisses his wet skin and then goes to hug Louis’ mom, a tiny little shudder going through her. Anne’s always been strong, though, and as Robin squeezes Lottie’s good shoulder, Anne takes a deep breath and separates herself from Louis’ mom before walking back to sit down with Harry, Robin following soon enough. 

Louis switches between watching Harry and watching Lottie’s good hand, during the funeral. People talk and a lot of people cry, including Louis, but then Harry chooses to go up and speak, tilting the microphone down a little because he’s shorter than the woman who spoke before him. 

Lottie’s hand clenches into a fist, and the fist shakes. 

“Gemma was my best friend in the world,” Harry says, reading from his paper as his voice shakes. Louis wonders if it’s shaking from nerves or unshed tears. Probably both. “And he taught me a lot about love and friendship. He taught me about bravery, and commitment, and honor and integrity. I always – I always hated the military a little bit, every time he had to go away.” People start whispering at such a comment, but Harry continues like he doesn’t hear them. “But now that he’s – now that the military has…taken him aw-away for good, I don’t hate it anymore.” He pauses to swallow, and his finger pokes at his tear duct, staving tears away. “That might sound funny, but when Gemma told me he had to leave, this last time, I asked him why he does it. War sounds scary, and sad, and I don’t understand wanting to be in the thick of it. But Gemma – Gemma said it was an adventure, but like a charity adventure, and like an action movie and brotherhood all rolled into days in the desert with dirty, grumpy, tired men who’re all there for the same reason. He said that he couldn’t imagine doing anything more worthwhile, and that even if I didn’t get it – he said even if I don’t get it, war…and the military…has given him something that the plain old life he’d planned out as a backup could never give him: purpose. 

“So, for Gemma, I want to say ‘thank you’ to the military. Everyone who serves now, or has served, or maybe one day will. Thank you. And to anyone who served with my brother, especially in this last tour…thank you. And make no mistake; Gemma and I will always be grateful that you were in his life, were his family away from family.”

Harry folds his paper up and walks back to his seat, but before he can reach it, he pauses and makes eye contact with Lottie. Someone else is already coming up to talk about Gemma, but Louis only sees Harry suddenly run to Lottie and hug him. The wheelchair moves back with the force of Harry’s impact, and Lottie groans in pain but hugs him tight nonetheless. Louis registers someone talking, but Harry exhales shakily and wipes his nose with the sleeve of his suit, and he sits up and looks at Louis. Louis bites his lip and reaches out to Harry, wondering if they can talk again. There’s a seat next to Louis, and Harry watches Louis’ face carefully as he slides down into it, like he’s afraid Louis might not want him to sit with them. 

Louis wants to reach out and hold his hand, maybe hug him tight and never let go and kiss him all over his face, but now’s not the time, so he gives Harry a steady look and lets the corners of his mouth tilt up just enough to let Harry know he’s not displeased. Harry relaxes a little bit and wipes his eyes, and it’s a few minutes of people talking, the pastor finally coming up to speak and pray over Gemma’s soul, when Harry’s pinky slides against Louis’. Louis folds his little finger tight over Harry’s, and Harry lets out a single sob as he squeezes back so hard it hurts Louis’ bones. 

After the funeral, Louis wants to stay with Harry, but Harry has to join his family and stand silent and still and thank people for coming and let people cry on his shoulder and apologize to him, like it’s their fault Gemma’s not taking him for ice cream _right this instant_. Louis wouldn’t have any problem waiting, standing behind it all to be there for Harry, but Louis’ mom isn’t having it. They hug Harry and his mom and his dad and his step-dad, and head out, Louis glancing back at Harry, who’s already got his head bowed. 

That night, Louis’ phone vibrates incessantly and it jolts him awake. _Let me in_ , the text says. A glance at the top of the phone tells Louis it’s Harry, texting him at nearly two in the morning. 

Surprised, Louis goes downstairs and checks out through the peephole and sees Harry, bundled up and looking awful, so he carefully unlocks the top lock – if he goes too quickly, it’ll squeak loud enough to wake up Lottie, who sleeps on the couch now because it’s hard to get upstairs. 

Harry stands at the door looking nervous, but Louis doesn’t have time for that. He grabs Harry’s hand and drags him in, shutting the door and taking care to lock it back quietly. He drags Harry upstairs to his room, and shuts his door, and he pulls Harry down onto his bed, so they’re lying on their sides facing each other. 

Harry stares at Louis for a long time, eyes still red and puffy, and Louis doesn’t need to hear Harry’s words. He understands. So he pulls Harry close and kisses his forehead, and wraps his arms around Harry’s back. He slides a leg between Harry’s, so their knees are stacked on top of each other like Jenga blocks, and Harry’s breath comes out shaky. 

Harry fists Louis’ shirt and tucks his face away, and starts to cry. Louis holds him until they both fall asleep, Harry with a stuffy nose and Louis with tears of his own pooling awkwardly in dips of his face. They don’t speak, and maybe they’ll never talk about it again, but Louis holds on to Harry, and he plans to do that same thing for the rest of his life. 

\---

A few years later, Harry enlists.


End file.
